


we should lay right here, 'cause everything is okay right here.

by scoutshonour



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Communication, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Graduation, Light Angst, Minor Allison Argent/Kira Yukimura, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: And Malia's heart - all it wants isthem.or: they're graduating soon, and Malia's kind of, sort of, super anxious about what will happen with Stiles and Lydia





	we should lay right here, 'cause everything is okay right here.

**Author's Note:**

> my quiet "fuck you" to love triangles, written at 2 in the morning, surely riddled with typos. 
> 
> this is kinda a follow-up to my last stiles/mal/lydia fic, "maybe i just wanna be yours", but you don't have to read it to understand. i also bumped up 6a, so they have more time in between graduation and the stydia kiss, and so they could actually enjoy the end of hs lol. all of the characters are alive and well, sadness, angst, death who? also, all of my tw fics have them having ice cream, don't @ me
> 
> another also, 6b doesn't exist, and they all got to live happily ever after the end!
> 
> title from jhene aiko's bed peace ft. childish gambino

She doesn't know much about what they're doing, but apparently it's unconventional. People are only supposed to be with  _one_ person. That's what all the movies and television shows say, all those love songs about the special some _body,_ not somebodies. Hell, it's law that you can only marry one person at a time. 

It should be wrong, but it doesn't feel that way.

Okay, it kinda does. But not in a guilty way, or a jealous, possessive way, not like that. It's more or so the coyote in her that just won't shut up; because coyotes mate for life with one other coyote. Polyamory is  _not_ a thing in the wildlife, but the human world isn't all that different than the wild life, she supposes, just way too many fucking rules and things to remember.

But she's sorta learned to shut that voice down. To growl at it, to demand its silence, to focus on the girl in her, instead, listen to her heart. 

And Malia's heart - all it wants is  _them._

When Lydia and Stiles got together, she quietly pined in the background, knowing that three people is not socially acceptable, not even an option, and was ready to spend the remainder of her senior year slowly dying.

When Lydia gingerly kissed her in her basement with Stiles on Malia's other side, breaking the wall Malia put up herself, Malia learning that polyamory was fine, acceptable, a valid option.

When she kissed Stiles, too, it changed everything in the best way possible. Because she had him, she had her, they had each other. 

That was all that mattered, right?

* * *

The panic starts to settle a few months before graduation, sometime in March.  


Malia and Lydia have been telling him to get a new bed for weeks, now.

"Stiles, this isn't working," Malia huffs on another lazy Wednesday afternoon, someone's knee jutting uncomfortably into her thigh. "Your bed is too fucking small."

Stiles gives her this incredulous look, before shutting his book dramatically, craning his head to look at her. "Holy shit, it's almost like one of us lives in a Victoria-style mansion with a billion goddamned rooms, a damn maid, a fuckin' chef-"

Lydia swats his shoulder, glowering at him. "With a super conservative mother who would die at the sight of me with  _both_ of my partners. It's almost like your place is so convenient because it's closest, and, oh right, your dad is not only shockingly cool with this-" She gestures to the three of them, squished together on his bed, "but is never home."

Malia nods rapidly, breaking off another piece of Twizzler, her go-to study snack with her mouth. "We keep falling off the bed, too. Remember how sore your back was last week when I was riding you? Or when your dad nearly walked in because of how damn loud Lydia shrieked when she fell off?"

"I mean, that's not the only reason she was sh-"

"Finish that sentence, I dare you," Lydia says, but it's more of a quip than anything, the corners of her lips quirked up. She's crammed in between them, Malia unintentionally elbowing her, and Stiles' legs practically atop hers. Needless to say, even if it is Stiles and Malia, it's not very comfortable. "She's not wrong, y'know. We spend most of our time here, anyway, so it would be a good investment for your two, intelligent, resilient, jaw-droppingly hot-"

Stiles smirks. "Done stroking your ego, babe?"

"My ego? I was just complimenting our ravishing girlfriend." She winks at Malia, giving her this tantalizing grin, and it doesn't really help when Stiles fondly chimes in with a, "you aren't wrong there."

Her heart swells, and she can't fight the blush creeping on her cheeks, but it does help when Stiles continues with, "Even though you are wrong about literally everything else, this bed is fine!"

Malia groans as Lydia fires back, before rolling off of the bed and onto her feet. "We're done arguing. Stiles will eventually realize we're right anyways, and I'm really hungry, and like, for actual food.  _Not_ frozen chicken nuggets."

"How dare you disrespect-wait, are you thinking ice cream?"

" _Duh._ "

They only spend five minutes arguing who gets to drive, an improvement from the usual eight, Malia insisting that Stiles let her drive his jeep. It's not even like she thinks the car is particularly cool or anything lame like that, it's just that he won't let her, which only makes her want to drive it even more. Lydia, who progressively gets more impatient each time, just grabs the keys from Stiles' hands, declares she'll drive and they'll sit in the back, and that's that.

She and Stiles start to fool around in the back, part to piss off Lydia for not letting either of them drive or sit up with them, part to make her flustered as hell, and the other part, because they  _do_ have libidos.

Lydia actually honks the horn when she sees Stiles start to unzip his pants. "Nope, nope,  _nope,_ you two are so not doing this to me right now!" Malia's sent into a fit of giggles, and she's content with grabbing all of him, all clothes remaining on, buttons and zippers not undone.

"How do the both of you have sex hair without actually having sex?" Lydia asks in the parking lot, amused as she flattens Malia's hair, before standing up on her tiptoes to do the same to Stiles. "Though it does look ridiculously good on the both of you."

"We're just  _that_ hot."

Lydia snorts. "And you say I have an ego..."

They push past the doors of the familiar ice cream joint, waves of familiarity hitting Malia. She's been here numerous times, more than she can count; on dates with Stiles when they first dated, then dates with all three of them, with the pack, and even with her dad when he has time outside of his schedule, his work invading the bounds of their household, too. It was a nice, quaint place; not too large, and never over-filled with people, lest it be a Saturday or a long weekend.

Stiles claps, eyes scanning the line. "Alright, I'll take your orders, you guys get our booth? The line's longer than usual, so we'll divide and conquer."

"Get me a-"

"A  _Chocolate Stout Waffle Sundae?"_ Stiles finishes, arching an eyebrow. "Obviously I know your order, Mal. Now, scat before we lose our seats." He quickly pecks Malia and Lydia's cheeks before shooing them away, stepping into line.

As soon as they dart away to their preferred booth in the corner, Lydia's hand slips into Malia's. "I miss you, y'know."

"We're literally together right now." Lydia points out, lifting their hands together as she slides into the seat opposite of Malia, their hands still laced underneath the table. "But I know what you mean. It's just that the anniversary of Allison's near-death experience is coming up, and I don't want her to be alone, you know?"

"No, no, no, don't-I totally get it. You continue being a good friend, m'kay? And a perfect, perfect girlfriend. 'Cause you're really good at it." 

Lydia laughs, the sound music to Malia's ears, ducking her head. "Stop being so cute."

"Impossible." Malia shrugs, smiling as a surge of warmth rushes through her. "How is she doing, anyway?"

"She's doing okay, but I don't know if it's because she genuinely is okay or she doesn't want any of us to know. I just want to be there for her." 

"Mm, I know, Lyd, I know. And you  _are._ " Malia reaffirms, giving her a solemn look. "You are."

Lydia smiles, looking almost flustered as crimson floods her cheeks. "How did I get so lucky to not just have a great boyfriend, but also a great girlfriend?"

"We love not fitting any 'normal' standard, I guess. And that's really true when you're a werecoyote and a banshee, so. We're, like, the definition of unconventional." 

"Amen."

Stiles comes back a few minutes later, and Malia can smell the anxiety from Lydia as he tries carrying the three sundaes with his two hands, but manages not to make a complete mess and a scene. "So, how are we all doing?"

"Infinitely times better now that I'm not cramped on your hella-small bed," Malia says, reaching forward to grab her sundae.

Stiles groans. "This shit again?"

"Yes!" Lydia says, crossing her arms as he sits next to her. "I'm just saying, your place is the only place we can have sex in without having to worry about parents. As much as I like being close to you both, there is a line between cuddle-fest and someone elbowing my boob. We can't exactly do what we like in the bedroom, if the bed can't handle it."

He bites down onto his lip as Malia and Lydia stare at him, gauging his reaction impatiently. "-Okay, I see your point."

Lydia and Malia grin sharply, bursting into cheers and victorious comments, until -

"But I mean, is there really a point? I'm leaving home in a few months, anyway, and we won't be using my room anymore after that, anyways."

You know when someone says something and everything stops? The world keeps moving, it's not like time actually pauses, but you feel frozen, like it really did.

The ball-drop. The crashing of plates. The  _holy-shit_ moment.

Yeah, that's what happens when it occurs to Malia how quickly time is passing, how Lydia and Stiles are going places, and she - she's taking a gap year. And she suddenly feels pathetic, hopeless, and -

scared.

Downright petrified.

How can Stiles just casually talk about them not using his bedroom anymore? Where will they go, then? What will  _happen?_

It fills her with this terrifying fear that makes every heartbeat feel violent and loud, pulsing at an outrageous volume in her ear. Lydia and Stiles continue to bicker, Lydia going off about how he's just a cheapskate, but it's all white noise.

Shit, she thinks.

This...this really is it, huh?

* * *

It's kind of hard to look at them after that moment in the ice cream parlor.  


Because it occurs to her just how fleeting this is, and how fleeting  _she_ is. Because she's heard the way they talk about schools and how Stiles applied to schools in Massachusetts to be with Lydia, who's a shoo-in for MIT, before Malia entered the picture. They're going places, she knew that, but they're doing it with each other, and it's not...she's not jealous. But if anything, it's more like she feels left behind.  


She knows it's irrational.  _Just talk to them._ She should, she needs to stop sulking about something that's months away, stop whining when she has this right now, or at least say something. They wouldn't make her feel childish or any of the ways she's making herself feel, and yet she can't.

Because they can't wait to leave, and that's everyone, too. Talks about their plans outside Beacon Hills, legitimate meet-ups and promises to see each other and call a set amount of times, how much they can't wait to leave Beacon Death (coined by Isaac, who said that despite it not being catchy, it's not fucking wrong). And she gets it, feels it, but - aren't they the least bit sad?

'Cause this is where they grew up, where they met each other, formed a pack, a family. Where Scott and Stiles became best friends. Where Allison and Lydia became best friends. Where she met Kira and found her platonic soul-mate. Where she found some more family with Cora and Derek, a bond with Braeden. Where Allison and Kira fell in love, followed suit by Isaac and Scott, and then her and Stiles and Lydia. 

Not to say that trumps any of the heinous shit that's happened here, and that being a lot. Malia knows, she  _knows,_ but that doesn't mean she feels nothing but a black void when she thinks of this place.

But high school is almost over, and for her it just started, and - shit.

Shit.

That's all she can really think when she thinks about how quickly adulthood is coming for them, and how much they're growing up.

Needless to say, the next few weeks are a lot, but she puts on a face, smiles, does her thing, says something quirky or innocent or whatever  version of her she needs to be, and it's fine.

Really.

Even if she keeps staring at the back of Stiles' head, unable to tear her eyes away from him. Because it's still hard for her to look at them, she can't  _not_ look at them, wanting to remember everything. Every mole, every curl of red hair, every laugh, smile, grin, quirk. All of it, goddammit.

"You know I don't mind, but why are you staring?" Stiles says one day when they're in Lydia's room for a change, her mother having left town for a week to visit her sister and her newborn on the other side of California. Lydia's down in the kitchen, making something she insists is a secret, as if Malia can't smell the pasta from the kitchen, and god, it smells good. Stiles is sprawled on her bed, a book in his hands, as Malia does a reading for biology, one of the few subjects she can stand and actually likes. 

"Does a reading" being applied loosely, though, because her eyes haven't left Stiles in awhile. 

Malia swallows. "You have a nice head."

"Um. Thanks?"

"You're welcome."

Stiles looks back at his book, before sighing, setting it onto the floor. He turns around, facing her, and looks almost concerned. "You're acting weird."

"And?" Because really, what can she say to that?

 _Oh yeah, I'm just seriously scared of losing you guys, because I really love you, or think I do, even though I have no idea, because feelings are scary! And I feel like a failure for taking a gap year, and it feels like everyone is going places, but me._ No thanks. 

He frowns, and she instantly regrets saying the wrong thing. "You can talk to me, you know that right? And Lydia. You don't - you don't need to pretend to be okay. Never. You don't have to ever pretend with us." He puts his hand flat against hers, the other hand twisting in her hair. She practically melts in his touch, relaxing when his fingers softly comb through her hair. 

"I know," she says automatically, because she does. It's still nice to be reminded, though, and she's appreciative. 

But she refuses to be a burden. And whatever Lydia or Stiles says won't really soothe her. It'll be lies, anyway. If they say  _we'll be fine,_ they don't actually know that. The future is a big question mark, and considering her life, she doesn't see it as hopeful or carrying anything good for her. 

Stiles still looks at her, waiting for her response, so she sighs loudly and craning her head for his hand to inch further up her scalp, says, "I guess school's been a lot. The stress is kinda getting to me, you know?"

"Well, hopefully a Friday night in with your two favorite people will help." He winks, and the dread isn't as heavy anymore.

"Wait, Kira's here?"

"Exc-"

"Kidding! Kidding. Come here, you big baby," she teases and buries him in kisses and cuddles, laying on top of him. "Am I crushing you?"

"Yes, and I love it."

Lydia shortly bursts through to the sight of both of them huddled together, as close as possible, laying in a comfortably silence. She stops, breathless, before smiling. "I'm finished, if you guys are hungry."

"You can come lay here with us for a few minutes, yeah?"

"Lydiaaaaaa," Malia hums into Stiles' chest, her voice muffled. "Come over."  


"How can I resist?" She crawls on top of their mess of limbs and they lay there, legs and arms all over the place. Malia listens to their heartbeats and she feels calm.

This is good.

They begrudgingly disentangle themselves after a few minutes, everyone too hungry. Malia pretends to be surprised, Stiles just kisses her, and Lydia beams, proud of herself.

"Holy shit," he says through a mouthful of sauce, "you can cook!"

"No duh, I can cook."

"No," he says, stabbing his fork through a clump of pasta, "you can  _cook._ "

Lydia grins pridefully, absentmindedly tapping her fingers against the clear glass of the table. "Well, get used to this, because this is basically what everyday in our apartment will look like."

Malia nearly coughs on her water, before standing up. "I need to go to the washroom."

She's really getting left behind, huh?

* * *

Kira swivels around her chair until she's directly facing Malia. "Okay, so do you think flowers are too much?"

"Sorry you almost died, here are some roses?" Malia scoffs, amused. She's sprawled on Kira's carpeted floor, which is way too comfortable than it should be. "I think you're fine, Kir. Allison's going to have a great  _almost died_ day. She'll be with you, her loving, amazing girlfriend. Don't overthink. Just...just be there."

She sighs out in relief. "I really needed to hear that. Thanks, Malia." There's a brief pause, where Kira turns her laptop off, before sitting in front of Malia. "Now tell me your problem."

Malia blinks. "What?"

Kira gives her this pointed, knowing look. "Don't play with me. I know something's been bothering you, because you tense up whenever I mention NYU, and every time Stiles or Lydia mention Massachusetts, you freeze. So. Spill."

She lets out a breath, leaning against the bed frame. "Fuck," she says, "you know me."

"Yeah," Kira agrees softly, "I do. What's wrong?"

There's no point in lying, because she's always transparent with Kira, and clearly whatever method she's been trying is failing. Weeks of unresolved anxiety is not success, by any means, and she hates feeling like this. Trapped and dreadful. And about something like university and graduation, considering her own biological mother has tried to kill her. 

Although, a part of her is secretly glad to have something so normal and common to worry about. Instead of...everything else she's ever worried about.

"I guess I'm just scared. I mean, I know you and I, the pack, we're for life, but me, Stiles, and Lydia...they were a thing when I came in, y'know? I know I dated Stiles before and all, but they - they had this  _history._ They're like an old-married couple, except they haven't gotten to like together, or get married yet. But they're starting to. All these plans, all these things they're going to do together, and I just...don't fit. They're going to school this fall, I'm not. They're dead-set on Massachusetts, and I'm...dead-set that I have no idea where I want to go, what I want to do. It's kind of overwhelming and I'm kind of scared."

The words come out clearer than she's thought them, and it feels good to have them  _out._ Kira rubs a hand soothingly up Malia's arm a few times before resting it on her shoulder, having moved closer until their knees touch.

"Aw, Malia. But you already know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"I  _know._ I'm just scared."

"Don't be. Look, they care about you, okay? They want to know what's wrong. And if you're feeling...left out or scared or anxious, tell them. They've got you. Plus, you three...you're pretty good together. Just throwing that out there, if you're feeling worried, which, you are. Definitely."

Malia sighs, knocking her head onto Kira's, resting it atop hers. "Allison's really lucky to have you."

"She is, isn't she?"

* * *

Sheriff Stilinski is working a night-shift a Saturday night, a week after Malia's chat with Kira, which. Convenient. Malia promises herself she'll talk to them then as they plan a night over, and refuses to chicken out once she gets there.   


She can tell Lydia and Stiles were making out, because her lipstick is smudged, and Stiles' lips are slightly swollen, which.  _Hot._ It makes her pull Stiles into a kiss on sight once she realizes it, biting down onto his lip, and grinning when he groans against her lips. 

Lydia coughs from her position on his living room couch. "I'd like a kiss like that, please."

"Don't mind if I do." She happily takes a seat on Lydia's lap, eager to further smudge her lipstick. Her bag of clothes drop right by the couch, and they don't even make it to the bed. 

A couch isn't ideal for sex between three people, but they position around it. Stiles is careful not to make a mess, but it's not like his first concern when coming is the state of the couch cushions. 

"Well," Lydia announces, panting as she lays on his couch. Stiles gives a final grunt before pulling out of her, squeezing one of Lydia's breasts as he does, while Malia steadies herself back onto the floor, kissing Lydia's come-ridden mouth. Her legs shake, wobbling from the high of her orgasm, and she's suddenly really tired. "I need a shower."

Stiles and Malia bark out a laugh. "Agreed."

They all shower - separately, unfortunately - and have dinner in his kitchen, some leftover lasagna and hot chocolate. 

This is it, and it's kinda perfect, too. Everyone's cozy in their pajamas, and unfairly adorable. Stiles has a Star-Wars shirt on and Batman sweatpants, while Lydia's face is bare from makeup and her hair's propped up in a messy bun, a sleepy look in her eyes. They're talking over mildly cold lasagna, and it's pleasantly domestic.

"Hey guys?" She interrupts their conversation about - okay, yeah, she doesn't know what they're talking about. She's been prepping herself internally for a few minutes, ignoring anything they've said.

Her voice is uncharacteristically timid, and they take notice, Lydia's eyes round, and Stiles' mouth slightly open.  They smell anxious too. She probably smells the same.

"What's up, baby?" Lydia asks, and there's that gentle flutter in her chest again.  _Baby._ She's weak for pet names.

"I need to - I need to talk to you guys about something."

Now they're definitely concerned, and she can  _hear_ the silence, so she fills it up, anything to not see that scared look in their eyes. "It's just that I've been feeling very overwhelmed and scared about us, not right now, I mean, everything's great, but us after graduation, and you're both moving together to Massachusetts, and I'm - I don't  _know_ and, and I don't want this to end." The words come out in a rush.

Stiles and Lydia both exchange a silent look, ones she can't decipher. But it doesn't matter, because she said it, got it out, and she's proud, okay? Emotions aren't her thing, Lord knows it's how her and Stiles broke up the first time around, and she's not letting it happen again with the three of them.

She  _cannot._

"Malia," Lydia starts to say, sounding mortified, "we thought - we thought you  _knew_ -"

"We want you in Massachusetts. That was - that  _is_ the plan." 

Then Stiles' face falls. 

"Shit, we never - fuck, I guess we  never really told you, huh? And - oh god, you thought...Mal, Mal, shit, that's not...we weren't..."

Lydia finishes his sentence for him, fiercely saying, "We wouldn't leave you behind." And her voice cracks.

And god, it almost makes her laugh. Of course they weren't going to shack up in an apartment without her. Of course they wanted her with them, every step of the way.  _Of course._ She does actually laugh, a practical cry of gratefulness, and swallows any tears that threaten to spill. Not because she's scared to, but these two will shower her with apologies and kisses and feel even more guilty if she cries.

"Mal?"

"Baby?"

"Say something, please?" He sounds scared, and it never really occurred to her that either of them would ever worry about their relationship. How foolish.  "I get it, if you don't -"

"Stiles Stilinski, shut up. Of  _course_ I want to come with you guys. Wow, I really should've talked to guys sooner."

Lydia's eyebrows furrow. "Sooner? How long have you been feeling like this?" Ah, shit. 

"Aha, well...remember when we kept arguing about Stiles' bed? And Stiles wouldn't admit he was utterly wrong?"

"Oh my God, our bed in Massachusetts will be  _bigger,_ you know-"

She continues with a grin.  _Our bed._ "Well, he mentioned that we wouldn't need it anyways, since we're leaving soon anyways, and it kinda hit me."

"Malia!"

Stiles gawks. "For weeks, you've been feeling this way? And you haven't told us? Mal, you can -"

"I know," she says, and cringes, because that's exactly what she said the last time he told her this. "It's a problem I have. And I'm going to fix it. I will, okay? I will."

Stiles and Lydia both reach out to hold her hand at the same time and she takes their hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately. 

"We," Lydia says, raising their laced hands, "are going to be okay, you hear me?"

Coming from Lydia - she does. She really does.

"Now we're going to watch a stupid movie and cuddle, okay?" Stiles announces. "And yeah, we can bring some ice cream too. It's a special occasion."

Stiles has a television in his room where they can use Netflix to watch something, and something feels off. It's not until she's rolled onto his bed that she realizes - "Is this - is this  _new?_ "

"No," he says, "but I got another single from the spare room and put it here. 'S it okay?"

Lydia slides in, patting the side next to Malia. "Come here and find out."

It's not perfect, but it's much better, and Malia can finally breathe again without it being directly on someone's cheek. "You really are a cheapskate," she says, and Stiles, from the other side of her, scoffs.

"Am not."

"Aw, it's okay," she says, leaning over to nuzzle his neck, "I love you anyways." She freezes, mouth still on his neck, completely still when she realizes what she's just said. Everyone else does, too, and all she can hear are the creaks of his bed.

She sits upright, staring at her lap. She knows it's not a big deal for Stiles and Lydia, because they've already dropped the 'l' word with each other, but Malia... "You don't have to -"

"Don't have to what? Tell you I love you? 'Cause I do. I  _really_ love you." He grins at her, looking star-struck, and her heart thumps. He leans in to kiss her and she leans in, before stopping.

"Wait!" She cries, turning her head to look at an entertained Lydia, watching them with wonder in her eyes. "You."

"Me?" She repeats smugly, and Malia wants to kiss her. Really bad. But she settles on -

"Do I even have to say it?"

Lydia shrugs. "Do it anyway." 

Malia rolls her eyes fondly, kissing her briefly. "I."  _Kiss._ "Love."  _Kiss._ "You."

"I love you, too, Malia Tate." She kicks Stiles, her leg sprawled over Malia's. "You too, you know."

"Oh, trust me, I know. I love you, too."

Malia feels like she's floating, and watching Stiles and Lydia kiss only brings her higher. This was a great night, she thinks, wedged between two people who love her. 

They decide on Evil Dead, because it's not that scary at all according to Stiles, just filled with the kind of gore that will make them all laugh. Malia's the small spoon, despite her insistence that she's alright. They coddle her with affection, anyway, Lydia cradling her head, playing with her hair, and Stiles wrapping his arm around her waist. She won't admit it's nice. She doesn't think she has to. 

She doesn't really know if the future will be good to them, but she thinks it doesn't matter anyway. She believes in this relationship, in their connection, their  _love_ -

and isn't that what really matters?


End file.
